


this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up

by fowlaaa



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, I JUST WANT THESE IDIOT KNIGHTS TO BE HAPPY TOGETHER, I'M CLINGING TO CRUMBS I REFUSE TO BELIEVE BRAIME LIVED AND DIED SO FAST, This is my first time writing a GOT fanfic, also i'm ignoring the leaks or whatever for this, but I had so many feelings about last night I couldn't resist, so please don't judge too harshly!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 12:52:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18739417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fowlaaa/pseuds/fowlaaa
Summary: Set post 8x04. In which I refuse to believe Jaime is THAT much of an ass that he'd go running back to Cersei without having a good reason for it.'If only  there was another way…But there’s not.He keeps South, heading towards what is sure to be his own doom.'





	this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up

**Author's Note:**

> So who else here feels personally victimized by _The Last of the Starks_? Most of that was hard to swallow, but Jaime leaving Brienne behind was the hardest of all. I've been obsessing over that moment all day, so here I am, writing my very first ever GOT fanfic. And if the rest of the season wrecks me as much as last night did? Well, this probably won't be the last.
> 
> Title taken from the song 'All Too Well' by Taylor Swift. Because yes, I spent all day listening to the saddest songs I could find thanks to these beautiful fictional characters who have ripped my heart out and stomped on it.

_I hate the fucking North_ , Jaime had told Brienne when he’d entered her chambers on that fateful night when he'd first acted on his feelings for her. He hated the cold, he hated the way the high and mighty Starks looked down on him, hated the memory of pushing Bran Stark out the window in the name of _love_.

_I hate the fucking North_ , Jaime thinks again now as the hooves of his horse pound against the trail that was leads him back to the South. Only now, he can't think of the cold, of the Starks, of the window. He can only think of Brienne, and the broken look on her face as he’d turned his back on her and left her behind.

Jaime had never fancied himself a coward. He’d always done things that were necessary, even if they were _hard_. But leaving her in the middle of the night as he’d intended to? Using her insecurities to hurt her when she’d caught him in the act?

_That_ certainly was near the top of the list of most cowardly things he’d ever done, though _hard_ and _necessary_ still rang true.

He’s _Cersei’s_. He has been since the moment he was born, following just after her into the world. He was hers for long years, for terrible choices, _Jaime and Cersei against the world_. Everywhere he goes, she is still there, still a part of him.

She is there when Bronn shows up and reminds him that as long as she lives, Cersei won't rest knowing he's out there, somewhere else, without her. She is there when he's with Tyrion, reminding him that no one in the world knows his twin quite like he does. And so, she's also there when he's with Brienne.

Every new feeling, every new experience, it reminds him of all the time he’s wasted devoted to Cersei. Of all the things he’s always wanted, but never thought he could have, because he’s loyally stayed by her side. Brienne is a reminder of the man he’s always wanted to be, of the man he could be _now_ …

Except that man wouldn’t hide in the North, in his happy bliss, while his sister brings ruin to Westeros and its people. The man Brienne thinks he can be wouldn’t selfishly put his own happiness first, while he knows that Cersei lives and Jaime’s love for Brienne is like a target on her back.

He should have known that it would take more than deciding he didn’t _want_ to be Cersei’s anymore for her hold over him to stop.

_You’re better than her,_ Brienne told him. And gods, it brings a lump to Jaime’s throat even now, thinking of how much she’d believed in him when no one else had. _You don’t need to die with her_.

Jaime plays the words over and over in his head as he rides. He wants to turn around, to go back and take his chances. _I could keep her safe_ , he thinks. He’d helped keep Brienne safe when he’d sent her away from Cersei’s ire before. He’d kept her safe at Riverrun, and he likes to think he’d helped keep her safe through the Long Night.

But Jaime doesn’t think he could this time. He doesn’t see a way they could ever be happy, not while his sister lives, and he doesn’t see a way for her to _stop_ living when his brother and the Dragon Queen and the bloody Starks can’t ever seem to find a way to get to her.

He’s the only one. Jaime knows that he is, and he knows what he must do. _She’ll be safe this way_ , he thinks as he casts another glance backwards. _She’ll hate me, but she’ll be safe_ , he tries to convince himself again, even as the image of her tear-stricken face leaps out of his memories to burn his insides.

_If only  there was another way…_

But there’s not.

He keeps South, heading towards what is sure to be his own doom.

* * *

Jaime misses how simple it all seemed, when Bronn arrived in the North talking about how his twin was as good as dead. Proclaiming the war was all but won.

He arrives to a King’s Landing that is in chaos, and it all feels far from over. But Jaime is the missing piece; he can feel it in his bones. He may just be one man, but he’s the one man that’s ever been able to _get_ to the current Queen.

_Even if she’s always gotten to him more_.

He prays he can use that to his advantage. He’s always been weak for her before, and they’ve always thought him the stupidest of the Lannisters. Jaime just needs her to believe he’s weak for her this one last time. That he is stupid enough to come crawling back, though he knows she wants him dead. 

And he needs to be strong enough to do what he came here to do.

She doesn’t have the Mountain kill him on sight, but he knows that the second he lays a hand on Cersei, that is likely to change. He doesn’t expect to come out of this with a freedom to live his life, to pursue the new love and the new happiness he so briefly let himself know.

He doesn’t expect to come out of this _at all_.

But if he dies, he knows he’s leaving the world in better hands. Just like he did with Aerys. And he knows that Brienne, left behind in Winterfell, will get to live in that better world.

That thought buoys him as Cersei invites him into the Keep and he channels the man he used to be. That man is a shadow now, a thing of the past -- but to Cersei, he’s always been a shadow, hasn’t he? Someone to follow her, to adhere to her whims, to do her bidding.

Jaime tells her leaving her was a mistake, and the last moments he’ll ever spend with his sister begin.

* * *

 

It’s just like when he killed Aerys, right down to the fact that a fucking _Stark_ walks in and sees him sitting there on the Throne, staring down at Cersei’s lifeless body. Only this time, it’s not Ned, it’s Sansa, and…

_Sansa_?

It takes Jaime a moment to realize what her presence here means. It’s a moment -- like any moment in the world without Cersei -- that he’d never even expected to have.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to see it,” she says. She’s not the little girl he remembers; that girl never would have sounded _pleased_ about someone’s death, though gods know as far as Cersei’s concerned it’s deserved. Jaime’s not the only one whose life has been made worse by the hateful woman who drew her last breath before his very eyes; the fact that Sansa now serves as the Lady of Winterfell in the absence of her parents and older brother is reminder enough of that.

He stares into the Stark girl’s eyes, not sure what to say. Is his stare as empty as he feels? Though Jaime didn’t love her the way he once did, it still brought him no joy to put an end to her life.

And it brings him even less joy to see Sansa here on her own, without her sworn sword beside her. Had his efforts to keep Brienne safe failed in the end? Or was the damage he’d done so irreversible that she hadn’t even wanted to enter the room with her Lady at all?

Jaime sucks in a breath -- another thing he hadn’t expected to do again. He’d not thought about the _after_ ; he’d not thought there would be one for him.

But Sansa breaks the silence, breaks through his numbness, and says, “Thank you, Queenslayer.”

The gratitude in Sansa Stark’s voice is a small wonder to him. She doesn’t see him as a man without honor; her words don’t bite the way _Kingslayer_ has all his life. And maybe Jaime doesn’t care that Sansa looks at him now as if he’s done something heroic.

But her opinion matters most to someone he _does_ hope sees him that way.

* * *

 It all happens quickly after that. Lannister banners being replaced with Targaryen ones, Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen marching into the throne room together, bells ringing and people reacting throughout the capital.

He’s lived it before. As last time, it all blurs.

Jaime doesn’t want to be applauded for killing a tyrant. He doesn’t want a tearful reunion with Tyrion, or a line of questioning from Bronn about his bloody castle, and he sure as hell doesn’t want to bow to the woman that he thinks might be _another_ Mad Queen in the making.

The only thing Jaime wants to do is ask after Brienne, but the words die on his lips before he can speak them. He wasn’t brave when he left her, and he’s not brave now. He’s a man afraid to see the ire in Sansa’s eyes because of what he’d done to a woman who didn't deserve it at all, or he's a man afraid to to get an answer that makes it feel like this was all for nothing. 

In the end, though, Jaime doesn’t have to ask. Tyrion drags him away from the crowd, allowing him room to breathe, room to process, even room to grieve if he wants it.

He doesn't. Jaime’s had the whole ride North to mourn for the Cersei he thought he loved, and the whole ride South to accept that he must end her. He just wants to know if there’s a reason he’s still alive, a reason why he didn’t die with Cersei, and when Brienne and Podrick finally stumble upon them, it feels like the first that’s been clenched around Jaime’s heart finally lets go.

“Ser Brienne,” he says hesitantly, as her eyes go wide. What does she know, of what he’s done? Does she realize that it was him, that he came here not to die fighting _for_ Cersei but to see to it that she didn’t live another day?

Does she realize that when he left, he hadn’t parted on an example of something awful he’d done for Cersei, but instead on a tale of something he _hadn’t_ done because Brienne inspired him to find a better way?

_Does she care_?

Jaime is sure there are noises coming from other areas of the Keep, but all he can hear is the sound of his own breathing. He knows he should say something else, but how can he, when she’s looking at him like _that_?

The blank expression she’s trained herself to wear is almost worse than the broken heart she’d worn on her sleeve at Winterfell. Then, at least, he’d known she still cared. Had his time away made Brienne as numb to him as he’d been to Cersei when he’d stuck the blade in her back?

Widow’s Wail is still at his side now, feeling heavier from the weight of Cersei’s death. And Oathkeeper is at Brienne’s, the handle glinting in sunlight that _of course_ is shining on this day. He’d expected it to be a dark one -- his _last_ one -- but it’s not. It’s the start of a new chapter for so many. He just doesn’t know yet if it’s a day where he’ll get to turn to a new page, too.

Brienne’s hand is on the sword now, clutching onto it, and Jaime remembers the day she’d tried to give it back to him. _Is she going to do that again now?_ He wonders.

_It’s yours. It’s always been yours_ , he’d said to her then, and he wants to say it again now, too.

Only it comes out: “I’m yours. I’ve always been yours,” instead.

The mask she’s been wearing falls. Jaime sees tears welling in her eyes, but they’re tears of joy, as when she became a night, and not the haunting sobs from their parting.

He knows there’s more to say, and gods _know_ there’s more he needs to do to earn back her trust. To convince her _and_ himself that he’s a good man, and maybe always was, underneath the horrible things he did for love.

For now, though, Jaime steps forward and feels the weight of the world lift off his shoulders when Brienne lets herself be folded in his embrace.

* * *

 

There’s more war to come, Sansa tells them later when Jaime goes to her to pledge his sword. Brienne is beside him, and if it’s up to him, that’s where she’ll stay for all the rest of her days.

_Happy days_ , he hopes they’ll be. Days that don’t have kings and queens and dragons and wildfire and armies of the dead hanging over their heads. Now that it’s fully sunk in that he _does_ have days to come, that he didn’t die _with_ Cersei as Brienne had assumed that he would, Jaime wants to make the most of them.

But if he must die in the war to come, in the clash of North vs. South, of Stark vs. Targaryen…

Sansa gives them a knowing look as she says the words that bring him into her service, and Jaime takes solace in the fact that he and Brienne are in the she-wolf's service together. At least it would be an honor to die beside the woman he loves.

* * *

 

(He doesn’t, though. Brienne doesn’t, either. The conflict is quick, and Arya Stark closes Daenerys Targaryen’s eyes forever. He’s sure the bloody honorable Starks will find some equally honorable monarch to take the Dragon Queen’s place.

He doesn’t stay to find out, though. Sansa releases them from her service, and it doesn’t take much discussion before they decide sail to Tarth.)

* * *

 

He offers her his apologies many times on the boat ride there, but Brienne never accepts them.

“I knew why you did it,” she assures him, and Jaime wonders if perhaps his mention of Riverrun had given him away after all. "I  _know_ you," she insists. 

And yet, the pain in her eyes had felt so real; the way she’d cried for him had been like a knife to his heart. He can’t apologize enough, and finally she concedes that _fine_ , it had taken her a bit to realize that _he’d_ never said he still loved Cersei, but that she’d assumed it for herself.

At that, Jaime draws her close to him, taking care to show her _exactly_ who his heart had belonged to on that night, and who his heart still belongs to now.

* * *

Tarth is as beautiful as he remembers, from that fateful day where he’d looked longingly at the Sapphire Isle, with thoughts of Brienne swimming through his head.

Not as beautiful as the woman standing beside him, though. All past japes about her looks are forgotten; Jaime doesn’t care what anyone else thinks, those piercing blue eyes and that rare smile that she saves almost exclusively for him are enough to make him forget the dark days of his past. To him, there’s nothing more precious in the world.

This time, he’ll do things right. This time, there’s no Cersei owning him, controlling him, threatening to snatch happiness out of his grasp. He is Brienne’s, and she is his, and on Tarth, they find the soft epilogue they deserve.

 

 

 


End file.
